


Mr. Banks' Daughter

by CozyMittens



Series: Seasons at Cherry Tree Lane [2]
Category: Mary Poppins (Movies)
Genre: Coming of Age, Family, Gen, George is more modern than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CozyMittens/pseuds/CozyMittens
Summary: Winifred had worked for years so that women in England would have the right to vote.  But she still had all the normal aspirations for Jane--a finishing school in Europe, followed by a good marriage and children.  It was up to George to find a solution when things didn't work out as expected for their grown up daughter.
Series: Seasons at Cherry Tree Lane [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738504
Kudos: 14





	Mr. Banks' Daughter

“Miss Evans, Mr. Banks would like to speak to you in his office when you have a moment.”

“Thank you Miss Trent. Did he happen to say why?”

“No ma’am.”

“Very well. Let me know when you finish your typing and I will take the letters to Mr. Banks myself.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Miss Evans sighed. She thought she knew what Mr. Banks wished to talk to her about. He was the youngest of the senior partners, but he was also one of the most conservative. How that was possible considering Mrs. Banks’ well known work in the suffragette movement was hard to fathom, but the mysteries of married life were just that to Miss Evans who was now approaching her sixth decade without ever having come near the matrimonial state. 

As head of the secretarial pool Miss Evans had a delicate job. She had been hired during the war when young men were busy fighting and the bank had made the astounding decision to employ female secretaries. “But only unmarried women and of the highest moral character,” Mr. Dawes Jr. had explained. There were strict rules of conduct and dress. All of the young women employed by the bank passed a rigorous interview and had excellent skills in typing and shorthand, but it was a daunting task to curb their youthful spirits and get them to conform to the conservative standards of the institution. 

Miss Evans’ sympathies were with the girls. She had several nieces and she knew that, in spite of the long Edwardian skirts and severe dark colors she herself wore, times and fashions had changed. In vain had she argued that respectable girls now wore makeup and nail varnish. Miss Debenham’s lipstick (pale pink and barely visible) had to go and Miss Tracy had to be cautioned about her manicures being too obvious. It seemed that each day brought new problems with hemlines, bright colors and too much jewelry. And today a new item would be added to the list. Miss Trent had bobbed her hair. The short haircut was charming and as she explained to the admiring group of young women gathered around her this morning it was much easier to wash and style. Miss Evans did not want to lose one of her best workers over a haircut. She was prepared to argue the case and if necessary keep Miss Trent out of sight in the typing pool until her hair grew back and she could put it up again.

Mr. Banks was ill at ease and decidedly uncomfortable when Miss Evans brought him his letters. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Please sit down. I’m not sure just where to begin.”

Miss Evans believed in being direct. “Is it about Miss Trent?” she asked.

“No and yes,” said Mr. Banks. “That is...how old is Miss Trent by the way?”

“Miss Trent is twenty one.” 

“Goodness, that young”, murmured Mr. Banks. 

Miss Evans was beginning to wonder where this conversation was going and how long it would take Mr. Banks to come to the point. 

“Miss Trent is one of our best secretaries,” she said primly. “She has been with the bank for two years.”

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Banks. “Her work is always good. I’m always pleased when you send her to me. She’s very professional.” 

“Then you do not have a complaint about her work?”

“No, but I do need to ask a personal favor,” said Mr. Banks. “Not about Miss Trent. It’s about my daughter. Have you met Jane?”

“I have seen Miss Banks on several occasions,” said Miss Evans, “but I have not actually made her acquaintance.”

“Jane is twenty-three,” said Mr. Banks, “almost twenty-four and the fact is she needs a job.” 

Miss Evans was stunned. This was unexpected. Sons often followed their father’s into the bank but never daughters. Daughters went to expensive finishing schools and lived at home until they married. 

“Please hear me out,” said Mr. Banks. “Jane works all the time. Her mother has her on all sorts of committees and she takes notes and types minutes, but none of it amounts to a real job. Everyday I see young women like Miss Trent who are making their own way and are so professional and I think Jane could do that too. I think it would be good for her to be with young women her own age who actually do the things Mrs. Banks is always talking about.”

Miss Evans considered. Mr. Banks was full of surprises, but then her brother’s attitude had undergone a similar change as his daughters got older. She had to be careful. Miss Banks might be a satisfactory employee but Miss Evans must not set a precedent of hiring everyone’s spinster relatives.

“I may be able to find a place for her,” she said, “but she would have to go through all of the usual hiring procedures. She would have to pass a typing and shorthand test and then do an interview. She would be the lowest in seniority in the department and have to do many of the less pleasant tasks.”

“Yes, yes of course,” agreed Mr. Banks. “I wouldn’t expect anything else, and of course you wouldn’t have to keep her on if she couldn’t do the work.”

“I most definitely will not keep her on if she cannot do the work,” said Miss Evans firmly. “It would create an atmosphere of disharmony if I favored one young woman because her father held an important position in the bank. All of the secretaries are held to the highest standard.”

It had been vary daring to speak to a senior partner in that tone of voice but it was important to set expectations. Miss Banks applied for a job the following week. In spite of the expensive school she had attended in Switzerland, she seemed far from “finished”. She was a quiet and rather reserved young woman whose thick, honey colored hair had been braided and coiled into a knot above her neck. Miss Evens had the distinct impression that this was only for the interview and usually the braid hung down her back. She was tall and rather self conscious about it, and though her clothes were well made they didn’t suit her. Her shorthand (which she had taught herself) was passable and she just squeaked by on the typing test. On the other hand, her penmanship was beautiful and she could read French, skills that could be useful with the banks’ foreign correspondence. “They were the only things I was good at when I was at school” she explained, “that and folding napkins to look like swans. I was rubbish at everything else.” 

She had enough potential that Miss Evans could justify hiring her, and her willingness to pitch in and do the work earned her the respect of the other girls. She soon started to make friends. As the weeks passed and Miss Banks clerical skills improved, Miss Evans watched with amusement as she started to bloom in other ways. The pastel pinks and lavenders she had worn disappeared and were replaced by vivid shades of jade, coral and apricot. Her pale eyelashes mysteriously darkened and her complexion took on a lovely blush though Miss Evans could detect no sign of makeup. Her confidence was growing daily and though she had taken to wearing low heels she was standing so much straighter that she looked taller. And one day Miss Evans was forced to murmur “Earrings Miss Banks” as she sent her out on errand. Jane had laughed and run back to her desk to remove the bright jewelry she was wearing and replace it with a more appropriate set of pearls.

But the greatest change was yet to come. Between Miss Trent and Miss Banks a firm friendship had formed. “I don’t think it’s fair you should be kept in here just because you cut your hair,” said Jane. “It looked wonderful and didn’t have anything to do with how well you do your job.”

“I was lucky to keep my job after Mr. Mousely said I looked too fast to work in the bank,” replied Miss Trent. She tugged at the locks of her hair that had only grown a few inches in the last months. “It’s going to take ages for it to grow out so I can style it up again.”

“I think it would be nice to have short hair,” said Jane. “Mine is so heavy and I hate putting it up.”

“You should get it cut,” said Miss Trent. “Then maybe everyone else could too.”

“Why, what do you mean?” asked Jane.

“Because you’re George Banks’ daughter. If you cut your hair and your father approved maybe the other partners would see it was respectable.”

“I don’t get special treatment because I’m George Banks’ daughter,” said Jane. “I might get fired. Miss Evans was willing to find a way to keep you because you have more experience.”

“You’re right. You’d better not. But sometimes I think she only kept me on as an object lesson of shame,” said Miss Trent, “so everyone can see what happens to young women who defy the system. You know, that sort of thing.” 

Miss Trent was joking when she said it. She really didn’t want or expect Jane to cut her hair, but there was still an element of truth. Not one of the others who had so admired her hair that first morning had dared to do it themselves. No one wanted to risk losing their job or being kept out of sight doing the menial tasks they all hated. But Miss Trent had given Jane something to think about. 

Jane didn’t care one way or the other if she cut her hair. She was enjoying experimenting with her looks but most of the time convenience trumped style. Miss Evans had been correct in her assumptions. In spite of the new clothes and discreet makeup, when Jane was home her hair hung in a long braid down her back. Though short hair would be lighter and easier to keep clean she suspected that it would also require more styling in the morning then her simple braid. That was more than enough reason for her to not make a change. 

On her own and by herself she would never risk her job by getting her hair bobbed. But her mother had worked years so women in England could have the right to vote. Why couldn’t they decide how to wear their hair? She didn’t like the thought of losing her job over something as silly as a haircut, but maybe it was the silly rules and expectations that kept people in their place and led to the real wickedness in the world. 

“I’m thinking of bobbing my hair,” she said that night at dinner. There was dead silence and then Michael, Kate and Winifred all started talking. Winifred’s voice was loudest. “No,” she said, “certainly not. George tell her how unsuitable it would be.” 

George looked at Jane and smiled. “I’m not saying a thing,” he said. “Jane is an adult. She’s perfectly capable of making her own decisions. After all if Michael can get married and start a family, Jane ought to know how she wants to do her hair.”

“When did we change places?” Winifred asked as they were getting ready for bed. “When did you become the champion of women’s rights and I turn into an old fuddy duddy.” 

“About the time Jane almost married the most worthless young man in England and we spent a year wondering if she would ever smile again after all the harm he did,” said George. “And you’re not an old fuddy duddy.” He put his arms around her and hugged her close. “Do you know she might lose her job over this?”

“Oh George, no. Does she have any idea?”

“Yes, she does, and she’s willing to take the risk. You’re the one who taught her that. You should be proud.”

“She’s changed so much in the last few months,” said Winifred, “so much more confident and happy. I thought keeping her busy with my organizations would give her a purpose, but you got her a job and brought her out of her shell.”

“No,” said George, “I got her an interview. She did all the rest. Besides I would never have had the brilliant idea in the first place if her mother had not spent years proving how intelligent and capable women are.” 

Normally George and Jane parted company outside the bank: George to walk through the lobby and up the staircase to his office and Jane to go to a side entrance and downstairs to where the secretaries worked. But this morning was different. Today he escorted his daughter through the lobby towards the staircase where she took the main stairs down to her work area. To say it caused a sensation would be an understatement. Miss Banks was dressed in the bright coral blouse and dark skirt she had recently purchased. The early morning light shining through the high clerestory windows of the bank seemed to linger on her honey colored hair, short and softly curled around her face.

George watched her descend the staircase and then looked up to see Mr. Dawes Jr. and two of the senior partners standing on the landing of the second floor. Mr. Grubbs and Mr. Mousely were properly shocked but Mr. Dawes Jr. appeared to be thinking. 

“Banks, was that your daughter you just escorted into the bank,” he asked. 

“Yes sir,” said George proudly, “that was Jane.”

“So that’s the new haircut everyone’s talking about. A bob they call it?” said Mr. Dawes Jr. “I’ve read about it in the papers of course, but it doesn’t look nearly as scandalous when you see it in person. It’s actually quite tasteful.”

“But Mr. Dawes,” sputtered Mr. Mousely, “Do you think it’s appropriate for the bank? Surely you wouldn’t want your own daughter to wear such a style. Not that I’m implying anything about Miss Banks character. Please don’t be offended Banks,” he added looking at George.

“My daughter is forty three years old and living on the other side of the Atlantic,” said Mr. Dawes. “She’s long past the age when my opinion mattered for much. But now that I think about it I’d much rather she cut her hair than wore trousers.”

“Trousers?” whispered Mr. Grubbs in horror, “surely not!”

“Not in public,” said Mr. Dawes Jr. “She only wears them when they go up to their summer home to hunt and fish. But, my goodness, it was a terrible shock the first time I saw her.”

“I shall speak to Miss Evans this afternoon. Trousers of course will never be countenanced, but with so many young people working in the bank a touch of modernity may be allowed.”


End file.
